If I Could See You
by Lucathia Rykatu
Summary: When Yuuri impulsively buys a ring as a good luck charm, he never expects to be haunted by the ghost of his late idol, one Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri isn't a great ice skater, but he knows Viktor is, and the world deserves to see his skating. Ghost!Viktor AU. Influenced and inspired by Ginban Kaleidoscope and Hikaru no Go.
1. Part 1

If I Could See You

by Lucathia

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Yuri! on Ice and make no profit from writing this.

 **Summary:** When Yuuri impulsively buys a ring as a good luck charm, he never expects to be haunted by the ghost of his late idol, one Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri isn't a great ice skater, but he knows Viktor is, and the world deserves to see his skating. Ghost!Viktor AU. Influenced and inspired by Ginban Kaleidoscope and Hikaru no Go.

 **Notes:** Ginban Kaleidoscope is an old skating anime/light novel where the main character is possessed by a spirit who helps her choreograph her skating routines. I remember loving the premise because of its similarities with Hikaru no Go. I wanted to experiment with such a premise for Yuri! on Ice.

* * *

 **Part 1**

* * *

During the intermission, Yuuri checks his phone. There is a missed call from his mom. He is reluctant to call her back, but he finds himself mentally calculating the time difference anyway. It's mid morning for her back in Japan and more convenient for her if he calls now rather than later, so he excuses himself, miming a phone sign to Phichit with his thumb and pinky jutting out. His friend smiles at him and waves him on.

The hallways are packed with people buying snacks and soft drinks. Yuuri skirts his way around them and keeps walking until he finds a secluded bathroom away from the crowds. He closes the stall door behind him. The phone rings three times before his mom's voice comes through.

"Hello?" he says in reply. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

His mom chuckles. "Not at all, Yuuri! You know business is slow at this time of the day. How are you, Yuuri?"

"Good," he forces out. It's the truth. His studies are coming along; he can't have wished for a better roommate; his coach is even urging him to participate in the upcoming qualifiers. Yet there's just something unsatisfying about it all. Not for the first time, he wonders if it isn't better to leave Detroit. He opens his mouth and closes it, unsure if he wishes to tell his mom about possibly returning home. She's always been supportive of his pursuit of figure skating and even helped him plan his move to Detroit. Though she saw him off with tears at the airport, there was also pride mingled among the tears. He can't bring himself to say anything about his listlessness. Instead, he says, "You called me earlier?"

"Yes," she says. "It's about Vicchan."

For a heart-stopping moment, long silver hair flashes through his mind, the beauty of the world of ice at pieces by his feet, and Yuuri thinks, _No, not Vicchan too._

His mom is still babbling over the phone, but Yuuri can only recall the despair that overtook him that day after practice nearly a year ago when Phichit gasped and hurriedly showed him the devastating news that was trending all over social media. To Yuuri, Viktor had been larger than life. Viktor and ice skating had been one and the same, Yuuri's goal and passion. He has dreamed of sharing the stage with Viktor, of showing him how much he has inspired him. He has never imagined a world of ice skating without Viktor in it.

"Yuuri? Yuuri, don't worry too much—" his mom continues to speak through the haze, "—Vicchan is okay. The vet said it was just overeating, but I wanted to let you know."

Yuuri breathes again—when did he stop?—and thinks he mumbles some sort of response. It must be somewhat intelligible because his mom doesn't ask him to repeat himself. She gives him everyone's regards and tells him to eat lots and dress up warmly. When the call ends, Yuuri stares at the darkened screen and exhales slowly.

The intermission is almost over by the time Yuuri makes it back his seat. Phichit flashes him a smile and gestures to the side. There's a bottle of water there for him that Phichit must have bought from the expensive vending machines in the hallways. Although he feels bad for the expense, it's just what he needs; his throat is parched, the phone call taking more out of him than he thought it would. He uncaps the water bottle, thankful for the coolness as he gulps the water down.

The lights dim once more, and Yuuri momentarily forgets the disquieting unrest that threatens to drown him. He twists the cap back onto the water bottle and leans back in his seat, letting the music of the show pull him in. Next to him, Phichit grins as the performers skate out in their fancy costumes, dancing to the notes in the air. Phichit's enthusiasm is catching; he can tell that Phichit enjoys every moment of the show, and for that, even Yuuri feels some of his passion, despite his own waning interest in the world of ice.

After the show ends, Phichit dreamily says, "One day, I'm going to choreograph a show like that."

When Phichit says it, it's easy to believe that he can make it happen. He always makes ice skating look so fun. Yuuri can imagine Phichit grinning on the ice, inviting his audience to share in his sheer joy.

"You can do it," Yuuri says in encouragement.

"One day!" Phichit says. "But first, I'm going to make a name for myself and make ice skating popular back in Thailand!"

Yuuri smiles wistfully. It's a beautiful dream. He wishes for a dream he too could chase, but that path no longer exists. What's left is a yawning chasm dug by self-doubt and apathy. He doesn't know how to fill it in.

The streetlights flicker on as they exit the arena to head to their bus stop. Along the sides of the streets, vendors are selling their wares despite the chilly night settling in. Phichit heads over curiously, eyes lighting up when he sees that they are selling merchandise for the show. He strikes up an easy conversation with one of the vendors, who happily chatters away with Phichit over the show, and Phichit agonizes over which keychain to buy. He likes several of them and can't decide between the hamster or the guinea pig.

While Phichit is occupied, Yuuri wanders over to the neighboring stall, a glint under the yellow streetlights catching his eye. It is no wonder the stall glitters when beautiful bracelets, necklaces, and rings line the table. They're dazzling, but Yuuri browses the jewelry halfheartedly while he waits for Phichit to make his purchase.

"Let me know if anything catches your fancy!" the jewelry vendor says. Yuuri is about to give an awkward smile and apologize that he's only waiting for his friend when something does catch his attention. His hand ghosts over a golden ring before he realizes it, recalling how he has seen Viktor wear a ring on a necklace before. It was usually hidden and inconspicuous; it was not often that Viktor was caught on camera kissing the ring, but those moments are Yuuri's favorites.

This particular ring is likely nothing like the ring Viktor wore, but Yuuri finds himself paying for it, and he also buys a golden chain, which even surprises himself, because it means that he's planning to wear the ring the same way Viktor did. The jewelry vendor gives him a knowing smile that Yuuri doesn't quite know how to decipher. Yuuri tells himself that he's buying a good luck charm, a pick me up. He definitely needs something like that right now, some of the magic he used to feel. He wishes his eyes can sparkle like Phichit's do when he rambles about his dreams of popularizing ice skating, wishes that he could return to the days of being captivated by Viktor's beauty and elegance on the ice, when ice skating used to be fun.

When they return to their apartment, a small, two bedroom place with a shared living space that could function as a living room or dining room as need be, separated from the kitchen by a small counter, Yuuri mumbles goodnight to Phichit and doesn't plan to stay up for too long. Practice will start bright and early tomorrow, and he thinks he might go jogging along the banks by the Ambassador Bridge to clear his mind. It's better than wallowing in his depressing thoughts. If he lets them fester, Phichit will notice sooner or later, and he doesn't want to dampen his friend's spirits.

Yuuri sighs and swivels in his chair. He checks up on his emails and randomly clicks around various sites before he gives up and leans back to stare at the ceiling. His walls are much emptier than they were a year ago when he had posters and photographs of Viktor everywhere. Now, he only has a single poster of Viktor up in memory of his idol, not wishing to depress himself further.

Sighing again, he sits back up and grabs the paper bag with the ring from his table and pulls the ring out. He holds the ring up and slips the golden chain through it. He fastens it around his neck. Chuckling humorlessly, he lifts the ring and gives it a kiss before he drops it against his chest, feeling like a fool.

A sudden groan from behind him startles him out of his wits. Yuuri jumps, his chair clattering loudly. He turns abruptly, heart pounding, hand flying to grip the ring like a lifeline, unsure what to expect.

His mouth falls open.

Viktor Nikiforov is lying on top of his bed covers.

Naked.

Completely naked.

Except for a golden chain around his neck.

Another groan sounds, and Viktor's eyes flutter open. Yuuri grips the ring even tighter, afraid to make a single noise. He has no clue what is going on. He must be dreaming. Yes. Yes, that's it. He is definitely dreaming.

Long legs swing over the edge of the bed as the man of Yuuri's dreams sits up. He blinks and shakes his head, as if trying to shake himself awake. His long hair pools against his back and chest, but despite the length, it still doesn't provide any decent cover, leaving very little to the imagination. Yuuri is too paralyzed to scream. He thinks to himself inanely that Viktor's hair hasn't been this long since the Junior World Championships, but he certainly looks older than that, and is that really what he should be wondering about right now?

Viktor raises his hand and looks at it, flipping it back and forth. Then, he slowly looks around the room. Yuuri momentarily considers if becoming a statue will mean that Viktor won't notice him. But notice him he does. Viktor tilts his head—it isn't fair how beautiful he is—and Yuuri trembles. Viktor blinks and opens his mouth in wonder.

His words are in Russian. Yuuri furrows his brows, only to see Viktor's eyes light up. He switches to English, and Yuuri finally knows why Viktor sounds so amazed by a nobody like him.

"You can see me?" he asks in awe.

After what feels like an eternity, Yuuri manages a nod, not trusting his voice, and Viktor responds with a smile so breathtaking that Yuuri finds himself falling all over again.

It's only then that a scream belatedly tears out of his throat—oh, it's working now—and Phichit slams open the door.

* * *

to be continued

 **A/N:** An illustration of Viktor by Kiyutsuna for this chapter can be viewed over at my livejournal or AO3.


	2. Part 2

If I Could See You

by Lucathia

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Yuri! on Ice and make no profit from writing this.

* * *

 **Part 2**

* * *

Yuuri doesn't go jogging on the banks along the Ambassador Bridge as planned, and he nearly doesn't make it to morning practice. Waking up with his idol sleeping in the same bed as him destroys all semblance of a normal morning. He still thinks it must be a dream, all the way until he wobbles on his landing and crashes onto the ice. It stings. It really stings.

It's not a dream.

Celestino tells him to cool off; he's clearly off his game today. Even though he still can't give Celestino his decision, Yuuri apologizes and promises he will try harder during the next practice. Phichit's worried gaze follows him as he skates over to the side of the rink. The reason for his distraction sticks to him like a shadow, yet neither Celestino nor Phichit makes any comment about suddenly having a deceased world famous skater appear on their rink.

Neither can see him. It's only just starting to sink in that he's really the only one who can.

* * *

The same thing happened the previous night when Phichit burst into his room, worried about Yuuri's sudden screaming. Because scream he did, once he finally found his voice. Yuuri floundered then, waving his hands in the air and pointing and gesturing, mouth gaping like a fish, but Phichit only stared at him instead of the very naked Viktor on his bed.

At the time, Viktor placed a finger on his mouth and shrugged, saying, "He doesn't seem like he can see me."

"V-Vi..." Yuuri had stammered, pointing at his bed. At Viktor. Who by all means, was dead. Should be dead.

Phichit had only murmured, "Did you wake up from another dream about Viktor? I'll make you some tea." In response to that, Yuuri could only accept the mug of steaming tea that really did end up appearing on his desk. Phichit had a drink of his own and stood next to him as he chattered about movies, music, and a whole bunch of random topics, but none of his words really made it through Yuuri's brain. All Yuuri could do was stare when Viktor got up from the bed and meandered around the room, hands ghosting across the walls. He eventually stopped in front of the poster of himself.

Yuuri's breath stilled.

As if sensing his distress, Viktor looked over at him and smirked. Yuuri didn't know where to place his eyes; he wanted to avoid Viktor's heated gaze but looking _down_ didn't help at all. His face flushed red, likely all the way to the tips of his ears. Phichit even asked if he was okay.

Perhaps taking pity on him, Viktor turned back to the poster of himself. He touched the poster gently, tracing the outlines of his outfit, and suddenly, Viktor was dressed in the outfit depicted in the poster from his championship win. The shimmering black hugged his body, and the delicate crystal shards on his shoulder and waist accented his hair and eyes. Although Viktor wore an old outfit of his, and his hair was just as long as it had been when he'd first taken Yuuri's breath away, the mesh that covered—hah, covered—the right side of his body clearly told Yuuri that Viktor was no longer that same teenager from the poster. Yuuri never thought he'd get to see Viktor wear that outfit again.

"Better?" Viktor asked, bringing his hands up to tie his hair. The black material of his outfit smoothly followed his motions.

Yuuri gulped and stared. Better? It was no better at all. All Yuuri could do was stare. And stare some more, unable to tear his eyes away.

Phichit had to shake him to reanimate him from his frozen state, thinking that maybe the chamomile tea had been too effective.

It definitely wasn't the tea.

* * *

Shaking himself out of his reverie now, Yuuri steals a glance at Viktor, who accompanies him off the rink and is seemingly deep in thought, so much that he doesn't notice Yuuri's attention. He is still wearing that dazzling outfit, as if he's only moments away from taking the stage. But there's no longer a stage for him, only Yuuri, the only one who is able to see him.

The thought freezes Yuuri, the responsibility too heavy and suffocating. He wills himself not to panic. The receptionist wishes him a good day, and he fumbles a reply and half a bow through quick, short breaths, to which she quirks an eyebrow, but there is no response from her to Viktor's enthusiastic, "Bye bye!"

The crisp air outside does little for Yuuri's panic and only shocks him more. He tries to walk it off, with Viktor following him the entire way, never more than a few meters from him. When walking doesn't help, he pulls the necklace from underneath his shirt, clenching it in his hand. Even when he doesn't turn around, he knows Viktor is there right by him. It's _not_ a dream, but how does he know Viktor is real? How does he know he isn't hallucinating? Why does Viktor come to him, of all people? Katsuki Yuuri doesn't even know if he will continue ice skating. Katsuki Yuuri is no one to Viktor Nikiforov. Katsuki Yuuri is—

"Yuuri?" Viktor asks and moves closer, hand reaching out, as if to touch him.

Yuuri flinches. The necklace thuds against his collarbone. He stumbles back, unsure if he wishes to know whether he will feel Viktor's touch, or if he won't be able to feel it. He's not at all sure which one would disappoint him more. Then, he recalls waking up next to Viktor, which means it's likely he already has his answer, only that his panic has eclipsed his understanding. Which, when it comes down to it, _sucks._

He was so close.

Viktor gazes at him, hand dropping to his side, waiting.

Yuuri finds that he does want to understand, after all.

He wants to push past his confusion. If he allows himself this, if he can pull aside the last threads of impossibility and let himself believe, then Viktor _is_ right there by him. It means having Viktor smile at him. It means hearing Viktor call his name. It means having Viktor with him. It means seeing Viktor. It means actually getting to know Viktor. It means maybe meaning something to Viktor.

All Yuuri has to do is reach out.

So he does.

His breath hitches when his hand passes through Viktor's, and his heart plummets, weighed down by disappointment. But Viktor smiles and takes it as an invitation. He comes closer and pretends to swing an arm around Yuuri, and he almost thinks he can feel his cold touch.

"So Yuuri, what's there to see here?" A cheerful wave of Viktor's free hand, gesturing at their surroundings, accompanies his words.

Yuuri doesn't really know. Phichit would know more. In all the time Yuuri has been here, all he really does is practice, train, and study. And let Phichit drag him out of the apartment from time-to-time. So, Yuuri doesn't really know the place, but he does have a few locations he enjoys.

The suspension bridge stands tall and runs far, all the way to Windsor. It's a grand sight rising above the great lake, reaching for the blue skies, heading to a destination Yuuri has never been. What Yuuri loves best about the bridge is jogging along it, with the water reflecting the bridge in the distance, especially in the mornings when it's quiet and the world fades away. It feels a bit like being back at Hasetsu then, enveloped by a peaceful solitude, except everything is much bigger, much more expansive. No matter how far Yuuri jogs, there's always more ground to cover.

Viktor is quiet, taking in the sight. He walks ahead of Yuuri, one step at a time. When the sun glitters across the water, Viktor pauses and looks out into the distance. There's a slight breeze that causes little ripples in the water and makes Yuuri shiver, but not a hair is out of place on Viktor. Yuuri stops rubbing his arms, instead twisting the fabric of his sleeves.

"I like to jog here," Yuuri blurts, breaking the silence, wishing for Viktor to look his way instead of looking so lost.

"Do you?" Viktor responds and does turn his way. "Why don't you show me?"

Show him he does. Walking didn't help, but jogging does, and Yuuri feels his unease finally settle down into a much more manageable fizzle. He does get his morning jog, after all, even though it's not quite as planned. The pace is easy enough that he can still converse with Viktor, though more than one passerby gives him a strange look for seemingly talking to himself. The first time it happens, Yuuri abruptly stops talking. The second time it happens, Yuuri sticks one of his earbuds in his ear and pretends he's talking on the phone. He doesn't want to have to stop talking with Viktor, especially when Viktor seems to hold on to his every word, always ready with teasing comments.

It's almost too much for Yuuri, how easily they fall into a peaceful rapport once he lets it happen, like he's known Viktor much longer than this. No longer is Viktor so out of reach like the teenager who danced across his television screen and made Yuuri fall for the world of ice, or the man on the rise to becoming a legend, making Yuuri wish to stand on the same stage. Yet at the same time, he still is.

He still is.

Yuuri's feet eventually leads them to a nearby park. Towering buildings give way to a beautiful oasis of green with plenty of trees surrounding it. They stop by the water fountain near the center. Yuuri sits down to catch his breath. He pats the necklace underneath his shirt.

"And? What do you like about this place?" Viktor asks.

Yuuri shifts and gestures at the north lawn. He can see the transformation in his mind.

"Between November and March, that entire grass area is transformed into an ice rink. It's really amazing," Yuuri says, lips tugging upward. "In the winter, twinkling lights surround the rink, setting the trees aglow under the open sky caressed by white."

It's nowhere to practice, not with how many families take to the ice, laughing, falling, jostling, yet it's one of the few places that still make Yuuri feel that ice skating can be fun.

"It's too bad the season isn't right," Yuuri concludes.

"Well, we'll just have to come back again when the season is right," Viktor says. The hope those words give Yuuri is almost too much. Everything about Viktor is almost too much. Viktor's intense gaze on him is the same. It's too much. Yuuri thought Viktor would be looking at the grass, imagining the skating rink. He's not. Instead, he's staring at Yuuri.

Studying him, taking him in, figuring him out.

"But for now..." Viktor rises from the side of the fountain, urging Yuuri to follow him to the grass.

What can Yuuri do but follow?

There is no rink, but Viktor doesn't let that stop him. Viktor's ice skating has always been like dancing to Yuuri, and Viktor dances now. There is no ice, but Viktor dances anyway, his jumps and spins landing gracefully, long hair fluttering behind him. This is Viktor. This is Viktor, and how Yuuri wishes everyone could see Viktor like he does.

It's not fair that Viktor doesn't get to continue on. It's not fair that Yuuri is the only one who can see him. It's not fair. Viktor deserves so much more.

When Viktor stops and catches Yuuri's gaze, daring him to look away if he can—how can he?—it's to ask an abrupt question. "Yuuri, why aren't you participating in the qualifiers?"

Celestino asked Yuuri for his decision just this morning. Yuuri's response was lackluster.

Yuuri gulps and clenches his hands. He longs to grip the ring again. He almost does. "I... I don't know. It's just that me and ice skating... I was thinking of stopping..."

Even as he speaks, Yuuri wishes he could take his words back, especially because of the shuttered expression that falls upon Viktor's face. How can he say such selfish words in front of Viktor, who doesn't even have the choice?

Viktor drifts close, cold fingers teasing Yuuri's chin. He's so close that Yuuri can almost imagine Viktor's voice tickling his skin. He's not entirely sure that the whisper of coldness he feels is the result of the wind when it feels a lot more like Viktor.

"If you're not participating," Viktor murmurs, "give your body to _me_ then."

* * *

to be continued

 **A/N:** An illustration by Kiyutsuna of the ending scene for this chapter can be viewed over at my livejournal, my AO3, or at Kiyutsuna's tumblr. Thanks for reading!


	3. Part 3

If I Could See You

by Lucathia

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Yuri! on Ice and make no profit from writing this.

* * *

 **Part 3**

* * *

Viktor, it turns out, isn't very good at being a ghost.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri catches Viktor trying to lean against his desk, only to accidentally phase into it, surprised. Yuuri tries not to stare, hurriedly jerking his head away so that Viktor doesn't notice that Yuuri has seen Viktor trying to play it off as if nothing has happened.

Other times, Viktor throws an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, only for it to go right through Yuuri when he forgets to stop and pretend. It never fails to make Yuuri shiver. He tries not to, not wanting to upset Viktor, but he can't help his reaction.

So, while Yuuri would gladly let Viktor take control, he's not entirely sure what Viktor means.

Still, he follows through with Viktor's requests. Both Celestino and Phichit are over the moon when Yuuri announces his participation. Practicing around them is much more difficult, but Yuuri manages a compromise, telling his coach that he wishes to come up with his own program while he'll continue his regular training with him to polish his footwork and jumps. The suggestion surprises Celestino, but he gives Yuuri the go ahead.

It's not until after hours, when there's no one around but Yuuri and Viktor, that Yuuri takes to the ice and skates to something altogether new and magical. Viktor leads and Yuuri follows, privy to a private world that no one else even knows exists. His first few steps are hesitant, marred by self doubt and unease, but his hours and hours of practice are no lie, his body knowing the ice better than his mind. He has watched Viktor all these years, taking in each of Viktor's motions and making them his inspiration, that following along with Viktor now is just like breathing.

But _better_ , because Viktor is right there in front of him, smiling at him, watching him just as Yuuri does the same—

Yuuri forgets to _breathe_ , ensnared by Viktor's intense eyes.

He stumbles but quickly forces his landing into a decent one, though wobbly.

Viktor chuckles and skates away, shaking his head at Yuuri, who realizes with a sinking heart that Viktor must know exactly the reason for Yuuri's distraction, and Viktor doesn't hold back.

"I'm flattered, but do keep up," Viktor says.

Of course Yuuri will. He chases after Viktor.

For now, this is their private world. A beautiful, secret reality that is theirs only. The thought makes Yuuri's heart pound furiously, but the goal isn't to keep it all hidden away.

It's to show the entire world.

Viktor lets him see. Viktor lets him be a part of the magic. Quiet, chilling notes accompany each motion of his. His outfit shimmers, black dissolving into silver, dusk melting away to bright dawn to herald a waltz of unconditional affection. This is Viktor. This is Viktor, who is in love with figure skating, who figure skating loves back but lost all too soon.

Yuuri can't hope to capture even a sliver of the love Viktor demonstrates even as he reaches out, wishing to pull Viktor to him. But Yuuri does it anyway, and Viktor smiles.

"Yuuri..." Viktor murmurs and meets him halfway, giving him a close up of long eyelashes and pale skin.

Viktor, it turns out, isn't very good at being a ghost, but he does know how to possess him.

When Yuuri looks again, Viktor is _gone_ but he is there. Yuuri is Viktor and Viktor is Yuuri, who raises his hands to stare at them in wonder. He touches his face, cold fingers running across his skin, tracing his cheeks as if mapping them out to learn Yuuri's visage. One finger runs across his chapped lips, and a breathless laugh escapes.

"As I thought..." Viktor says through him to Yuuri's complete confusion. "You're..."

Yuuri's heart is pounding a mile a minute, but whether he's the reason for it or Viktor, he doesn't know. All he knows is the sensation of a grin spreading across his face as Viktor throws them onto the ice. He breathes in the crisp, cold air and relishes in the feeling of the ice below his feet, metal blades carving their legacy.

He breathes. He lives. And he will skate. The music echoes on, spinning a tale of transcendence and affection.

Then, Viktor takes them into the leap of his life, spinning, and spinning, and spinning, so fast that it's over in the blink of an eye yet not, the view from the top so breathtaking that time stops then, only to restart when Yuuri lands back on earth.

He laughs then, through heaving gasps, and he's pretty sure they're both responsible. The music slowly peters out, the final notes ending the magic, but Yuuri has already tasted it once and he will never forget.

Yuuri wants to show everyone. He needs to show everyone.

This is Viktor. And he is beautiful. 

* * *

The short program is all Viktor's, a program he began choreographing before his death. Yuuri gladly skates it, a tale of pure, unconditional love. Yuuri thinks he might understand it, especially with the emotions that well up inside of him at the thought of being able to skate for Viktor. For a long time, figure skating stopped being fun, but perhaps Yuuri was only momentarily lost.

For how could he not love figure skating?

He finds his path once more, and it is one deeply entangled with Viktor's, so much that he doesn't know where one ends and the other begins. He follows gladly, blindly even, but Viktor is the very same person who puts a stop to it.

"Yuuri, why don't you choose your own music for the free program?" Viktor says and gives him less than a week to do so.

Yuuri doesn't even know where to begin, but thank goodness for Phichit, who suggests that the music school nearby could be helpful. They venture there together under Phichit's eager insistence, so happy is his friend to see Yuuri interested in figure skating once again, to see that Yuuri is even coming up with his own choreography.

The lie weighs heavily, but Yuuri doesn't know how to breach it without putting everything in jeopardy.

"Won't you show me what you've been practicing?" Phichit asks along the way.

"Soon," Yuuri promises with a lopsided smile. It's not that he doesn't want to show Phichit. It's just that he's not at the level he needs to be yet, not if he wants to do justice to Viktor. Besides that, Yuuri wants to keep the magic to himself. Just for a bit longer.

A music student by the name of Ketty Abelashvili is intrigued by Yuuri's request, and they agree to meet to hash out the details. Before then, Yuuri must come up with what he wants out of his free program.

"Viktor, how do you choose your music and themes?" Yuuri asks. They're back in his room with its bare walls, the lone poster of Viktor almost accusatory. Yuuri itches to put the other posters back up, but with Viktor in the room, it's not a possibility.

Viktor has his leg pulled up on the bed, eyes halfway closed, but at Yuuri's question, one eye cracks open fully to regard Yuuri. It isn't that Viktor needs to rest, but by now, Yuuri has noticed that if Viktor doesn't focus, he might very well sink through the bed.

"It depends," Viktor answers. "Take the current short program, for example. The music and the theme came together at the same time for that one."

"What was your inspiration behind it?" Yuuri asks.

Viktor touches the ring that lies against his collarbone and replies quietly, "Many things."

Yuuri stops asking, the echoes of "In Regards to Love: Agape," taking on a eerie sensation when he realizes just how fleeting what they have is. The music describes them to a tee, a yearning for an eternal love that doesn't exist. Viktor seeks it even after death, and all he has found is Yuuri.

Yuuri stops asking, but Viktor abruptly says, "I miss Makkachin."

There must be plenty that Viktor misses, but of course Viktor misses Makkachin, and of course Makkachin is part of the many that inspires Viktor to choreograph this particular short program.

"We should go visit her," Yuuri blurts. "If you want."

Or even adopt her and bring her over.

Russia is far, but not _that_ far. All it takes is a plane ride. If hopping on a plane can wipe the melancholy from Viktor's face, Yuuri would gladly do it.

Viktor inclines his head, his long hair drifting loosely around him. He twirls a strand around his fingers and makes a noncommittal noise. Yuuri decides this won't do. He swipes through his phone, pulling up a photo, and shoves it in front of Viktor.

"Um, this is my dog!" Yuuri all but shouts. He never plans to reveal to Viktor that he got himself a poodle because of Viktor, and that he even named his poodle after him, but Yuuri would rather do that than to see Viktor like this.

In the photo, Vicchan is licking Yuuri's face, knocking his glasses askew. It's not exactly a very good photo of Yuuri, which he only realizes just now, and he hastily tries to switch to the next photo instead.

But Viktor laughs and reaches out to stop him, only for his hand to pass right through the phone. Yuuri gives up and holds the phone out for Viktor to see.

Viktor's eyes roam over the photo, his mouth lifting up. "What's his name?"

"Vicchan," Yuuri mumbles.

"Vicchan?"

"Vicchan."

At that, Viktor laughs so hard that he falls right through the bed, and Yuuri finds himself grinning right along with him even when his ears are surely red.

When Viktor is finally able to stop sinking through the bed, Yuuri says, "The Grand Prix Finals will be in Fukuoka. Maybe we can visit him then, if I'm not assigned to the NHK Trophy before that. Um, I live in Hasetsu. It's not that close to Fukuoka but not that far either, so visiting won't be a problem especially after the competition is over and I don't need to come back to Detroit right away. It'll just take a domestic flight..."

Yuuri is fairly sure he's rambling.

Viktor merely smiles at him from the bed and says, "Let's do that."

At those words, Yuuri is hit by a sudden burst of inspiration, knowing exactly what he wants his free program to be like. If Yuuri can capture even a sliver of what Viktor showing up in his life means to him, he will count it a success.

He knows just what he'll name it, too. 

* * *

to be continued

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading!


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